


A special ingredient

by LostinFic



Series: Mercier x Betty oneshots [13]
Category: A Passionate Woman (TV), Spies of Warsaw (TV)
Genre: Autumn, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 09:52:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16365647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostinFic/pseuds/LostinFic
Summary: There's only one pumpkin pie left and they both want it.





	A special ingredient

**Author's Note:**

> Trick-or-Treat prompt: You own a bakery and before 2 days ago I didn’t know it was possible to fall in love with a pumpkin pie
> 
> I did something a little different, this is told from the baker's POV.

I always believed there was some kind of magic to baking. Ingredients— some of which taste bad on their own— that once combined transform into something delicious is nothing short of witchcraft. I know it’s mostly chemistry, but I always mix in a positive thought or a good wish. Now, I don’t want to brag but I think that’s what makes my goods the finest ones in town.

When October arrived at our doors, I switched to autumnal recipes. I admit, in this case, it’s not positive thoughts that make my pumpkin pie so outstanding, it’s a secret ingredient I shall not reveal. Still, given what a hard year we’d had, I also poured all my love and compassion into the mix.

And it worked.

It had been a long, gray day when the bell above the door rang and a client came in not long before closing time. She left the door ajar to shake her umbrella outside and a cold wind and wilted leaves rushed through the opening.

“Cold outside, is it?” I said.

With the ovens running most of the day, my bakery was warm and cozy, but I had seen people struggling with their hats or coats against the wind all day long.

The client barely nodded in reply as she attempted to tame her brown curls.

I recognized her from two days ago, she’d come in for bread, but also bought a pumpkin pie after tasting a sample. No one can resist it. She’d tried to guess the secret ingredient but I kept mum. Now that she was back, I supposed further tasting had not answered her curiosity.

She looked anxious. She wrung her hands as her eyes darted from one patisserie to the other behind the glass of the refrigerated display.

“Hiya! What will it be today, Miss?”

She startled. “Erm, yes. I’d like—“ she remembered her manners—“Sorry. Hello. How are you?”

The phone rang.

“Answer it,” she said. “I can wait.”

I did just that. “Mabel’s Bakery, how may I help you?”

“Do you still have pumpkin pies?” asked a man with a French accent.

I looked at the pie display. “You’re in luck. I’ve only one pumpkin pie left.”

The woman waved frantically to get my attention.

“Hold on a minute, sir.”

“I want that pie,” she said. “I need that pie.”

I spoke into the phone. “There’s a woman here who just told me she wants it too.”

“I asked for it first,” the man answered. “I’m on my way.”

“I was here first,” the woman pointed out.

“I’ll pay you double,” he insisted.

I relayed that information to the woman.

“I’ll pay triple.”

Now things were getting very interesting. I knew my pumpkin pie was delicious, but that exceeded my expectations.

“I’ll have more tomorrow,” I said to both, but neither could wait.

“I’m almost there,” the man said. I could hear cars passing in the background and his labored breath as if he was running.

“Please,” the woman begged. “It’s for me husband. He’s cross with me and I need to do something.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and I took pity on her. But just as I nodded my assent, the door flung open. A lean man in a long trench coat came in, his curly hair messy from the wind.

Both customers froze and stared at each other. I feared they would jump at each other’s throat.

“I’ll cut the pie in two,” I began to say, but they ignored me.

“Betty?”

They started talking at the same time, insistently apologizing to each other.

“Oh, Jean-François I’m so sorry.”

“No, I am. I was a fool.”

They walked towards each other, reaching for the other’s hands. I finally understood that he was the husband in question.

“No, you were right, I shouldn’t have said that,” she said.

“I should have known it would upset you.”

“But I don’t want it to upset me. I… I understand that your work’s important. I really do.”

“I know. But you are important to me too, Betty. Most important.”

He cupped her cheek so tenderly, my own heart melted like the inside of a lava cake.

“I wanted to buy you some pie because you loved it so much. A sort of peace offering.”

“I had the same idea. I wanted to make you feel better, I knew the pie would.”

They grinned at each other, wide, dopey smiles.

I was glad they were thinking about the pie again. I cleared my throat to get their attention, but they were completely lost in each other’s eyes.

The man bent down to kiss her, a light peck followed by another one. The woman wrapped her arms around his neck for a longer, open-mouthed kiss.

When the man’s hands strayed to his wife’s bum and she answered with a small moan, I had to interrupt them, this was a place of business after all.

“So, which one of you’s buying the pie?”

The woman clapped a hand over her mouth and hid her blushing face against her husband’s chest.

“I will,” he said.

Since the rain had turned into a proper downpour, they stayed inside. They sat down at one of the small bistro table, on the same side, and ate straight from the box. They fed each other pieces of pie and kissed in-between bites. I couldn’t bring myself to tell them it was closing time.

Who knows what would have happened to this couple without my pumpkin pie. It truly is magical.


End file.
